


Beethoven

by boccardo_syllogism



Series: Adventures in Gayviation [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Douglas doesn't have emotions he has a piano, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boccardo_syllogism/pseuds/boccardo_syllogism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fandot Creativity Night Prompt: fantastic no. 1</p>
<p>Douglas plays the piano.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beethoven

It’s quiet; the sun has long since set, but he hasn’t bothered to get up and turn on the lights. It doesn’t seem right, anyway - he’s not in the sort of mood that calls for lamps. It’s not that kind of night. No, he is perfectly happy to sit here in the not-quite-darkness that comes from one’s eyes adjusting to the gradual loss of light without noticing. It is, he thinks with dour amusement, rather fitting - the light has left his eyes both literally and figuratively.

_G sharp C sharp E, G sharp C sharp E_ \- his hands spasm on the keys. That had been _his_ , when there had been someone to scold him for sitting in the dark with no lights on, “honestly, Douglas, you’ll ruin your eyesight,” and he’d just laughed and played those three notes to make him let out a fond sigh and settle down nearby to listen.

And now his damned fingers still stray to those keys because as much as he’d rather forget the whole piece, it had been for _him_ , it had been part of them, and he can’t bear to let go of something so precious. He should, though - it’d be easier on him to forget the golden evenings they spent, lit by the soft glow of lamplight, caught up in each other in the manner of lovers who can’t bear to look at anyone but their beloved.

_He_ had been so bashful when he’d asked for this song, had said it was such a cliche but he really did love the piece, and how could anyone resist when those blue eyes locked on one’s own to plead for such a charming request?

So he’d played the piece, _G sharp C sharp E, G sharp C sharp E_ , and fallen more and more in love with each note. And now, months later, he’s sat at the same piano, playing the same notes, but no one’s here to turn on the lights and he’s going more by muscle memory than being able to see the keys. Which is partially because it really is quite dark and partially because he’s only just realized he’s crying.

What is he supposed to do? Call _him_ up and say “I tell my piano the things I used to tell you,” let it spill out that he’s been playing Beethoven for weeks, offer to play that piece a million times more if only he’d listen? Because _he_ , out of all the people who have ever heard him play for real, _he_ is the only person who ever worked out that Beethoven is what he plays when he’s breaking inside.

He’d thought that _his_ piece would change that. Moonlight Sonata had briefly been the song that played in quiet moments when he was so overcome with love he could hardly breathe for emotion. It had been, he’d hoped, their fantastic Sonata No. 1 - the first song that made them _them_.

And now it was the most painful of all.

_Happy anniversary, Martin. If only you were here._

**Author's Note:**

> do you enjoy pain? I enjoy pain
> 
> Fun fact: Moonlight Sonata is not, in fact, the song that I associate with Douglas angst. [That would be [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lfKXSl0NZY) .] It is, however, a song that I could picture the two flying idiots being adorable over, and that turned into angst. Of course it did.
> 
> As ever, I'm preux-chevalier on tumblr. Please come talk to me!


End file.
